


Always Going To Be

by flipflop_diva



Category: Clueless (1995)
Genre: Best Friends, Gen, Growing Old Together, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re always going to be best friends, right” Dionne asked. </p><p>The answer was always yes. </p><p>Set post-canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Going To Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miggy/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Miggy! I love this movie, so I had fun writing for you. I hope you enjoy!

It was only the sixth time she had admired herself in the mirror, but she did it again anyway, turning to the side to see her best profile. 

“We look good,” she said, also for the sixth time, as Dionne joined her, a similarly square-looking cap perched on top of her perfect hair. They both did look really good in the blue robes, even if the robes themselves were so not attractive. But the school board had rudely denied her request to have new, more modern, stylish ones made. It was okay, though. They looked almost regal in these. It seemed fitting.

“We do,” Dionne said, but her voice was almost flat. Cher turned almost in horror.

“Di? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“No.” Dionne shook her head. “Yes. No. Okay, just listen to me, okay?”

“You know you can tell me anything.” Cher felt herself growing concerned. This wasn’t like Di to be so upset … And on graduation day no less! This was not a day for sadness. After all, they had been dreaming about this day forever, how magical it was going to be … the ceremony, the hat throwing, the parties afterward. The parties after the parties afterward.

“I just …. We’re always going to be best friends, right? Nothing is going to change? You promise?” Dionne looked almost afraid, and Cher laughed, the sweet feeling of relief spreading through her. 

“We are going to be best friends forever!” She threw her arms around her friend’s neck. “I promise.”

•••

It took forever for the car to turn into the drive and then to roll to a stop and then for the doorman to open the car door and then finally, finally, finally for the girl inside to emerge, all tall and long legs and four inch heels and perfect skin. 

She was waiting for her on the front stoop, all calm and collected and poised. They greeted each other as one would greet royalty, a slight bow toward each other, brief kisses on the cheeks, slight adoration over how impossibly good the other one looked. And then they walked, arm in arm, back inside the house, past all the girls gathered to stare, and up the stairs and down the hall and into her giant room at the end of the hall.

They waited until the door had closed behind them and they had escaped into the bathroom where they would have more privacy before squealing and hugging and jumping.

“I’m so proud of you!” Dionne exclaimed. “Just look at this place, girl! I always knew you would be elected queen.”

“President,” Cher corrected. “It’s hard, though, always having to be wise. The pressure, you know?”

“I feel ya, girl!”

“There are so many girls that need my help, but I’m trying to do good, bring about change.” She couldn’t wait to show Dionne the before-and-after pictures she had of all the new pledges. She shuddered just remembering some of the girls that had come to rush, but as president, it was her solemn duty to make sure all of her sisters were the most attractive they could be.

And that they, of course, gave back as well. Cher was very proud of her efforts to always fundraise for the little people.

“Sometimes I wish we could have gone to college together,” Dionne said later that night, lying on Cher’s bed. 

“It’s good to be apart,” Cher said. “Remember? It helps us grow as people.”

They had wanted to go to college together, but Dionne’s parents had insisted she go elsewhere, and they both knew it was good to expand their wings and all, but still. Cher missed her. She only really felt like her real self when Dionne was next to her, and it was nice to feel like that.

“You sound like my mom,” Dionne said now, and Cher poked her hard in the side.

“Don’t say that!” she said. “I’m going to be a cool mom someday.”

“Duh,” Dionne said, and then, “And we’re going to live side-by-side and be best friends forever.” A pause. “Right?”

Cher hit her with a pillow. Lightly, of course. “Do you even have to ask?”

•••

Their houses were next to each other, just as they planned. As if there was any other option. The gate on the sides of the houses, through Cher’s garden and Dionne’s tennis courts, connected so they could slip in and out without anyone who was not them being any the wiser. It was easier to work things out that way. 

They had a _lot_ on their plates these days. It was hard, trying to run everything, from the PTA to the neighborhood watch, and of course, they had to focus most of their energy on running As If. Clothing companies did not run themselves, as Cher reminded all their (mostly stellar) employees every morning. Sometimes it was so busy, they barely had time to think of their children and make sure they were being the strong, smart, selfless people they were raising them to be.

Their lives were non-stopping running and moving, but it was what they had always wanted, going into business together, working side-by-side.

“You two should just have married each other,” Dionne’s husband always groused, and they always laughed because it wasn’t like they hadn’t thought of that either.

“We’re going to be best friends forever, right, Cher?” Dionne had asked on the day they signed the paperwork to start their own company, and Cher had nudged her in the side and laughed.

“How could we not be?” she’d said and reached into her purse to pull out the bottle of champagne she had snuck in to celebrate.

•••

Their rooms were adjoining but most times the staff at the home thought they should just put their beds in the same room together because nine times out of ten they ended up in the same one anyway.

They were both approaching their ninetieth birthdays. Cher’s eyesight was going and so was Dionne’s hearing. Cher could barely walk anymore, and sometimes Dionne could barely remember her own name.

But they remembered each other, heads together late into the nights, giggling and whispering like schoolgirls who were caught doing something naughty.

“We’re always going to be best friends,” Dionne would announce almost every day when the nurses arrived to check on them and help them get dressed.

“Who are you talking to?” Cher would ask her.

“What did you say?” Dionne would say back.

Their children would smile and fix the photos that adorned their rooms — photos of them working at As If, photos of their weddings, of their children through the years, from birth to graduations. They would straighten out the newspaper articles and the stories the magazines wrote profiling Cher and Dionne and their adventures over the years. They would even polish the crowns, left over from their shared prom queen stints, that glowed up top their dressers as well as the awards they had gotten for their humanitarian efforts. Both things Cher and Dionne were equally proud of.

“We’re always going to be best friends,” Dionne said one night to the nurses and her children and to Cher, who laid her head on her best friend’s shoulder. It was the last thing Dionne ever said.

“We were always best friends,” Cher said for every night after that, and her kids, and Dionne’s would nod. They knew, they all knew. They always had. After all, it had always been meant to be.


End file.
